The Girl Named Tennessee
by PsychedArtist
Summary: One-Shot. Dimitri goes out one night with Ivan and meets a mysterious dancer who goes by the name Tennessee. Who knew Dimitri could dance so well?


_Hey guys!_

 _I've had this story saved on my computer for quite some time. I'd been listening to "Girl Named Tennessee" by NEEDTOBREATHE and felt the sassy embodiment of Rose throughout the song. It's a one-shot, but I'd really appreciate any feedback. I hope you enjoy._

 _~Victoria_

* * *

"I can't believe you made me come to this." I groaned, not the first time this night. The sound of a piano and a fiddle drifted through the doors that never seemed to remain closed, at least it didn't have the old saloon doors. I was dressed in my normal dark button-down and dark wash jeans, but Ivan had convinced me to adorn a ridiculously large, shiny belt buckle, cowboy hat, bolo tie, and black leather boots. I drew the line when he suggested chaps, however. "And I really can't believe you made me dress like this."

My best friend had been pestering me to go out more, stating his need for a wingman, not that he needed a wingman, he had plenty of success on his own. I wasn't much for socializing, especially in bars; they were too loud and too busy. I'd much rather sit with a cup of coffee and a good book, or take a quiet run through the woods. I guess my ideal way of meeting women was at the library or not at all.

"It's not going to be _that_ bad, Dimka," Ivan said, throwing his head back in a laugh while slapping me on the back. I eyed him warily. "Besides, I thought you liked the country and the Old West."

"I do, but I'm not big into dancing," I said as we pushed our way into the bar. "And I'm pretty sure by the end of the night you're going to want me to dance."

"I'm pretty sure by the end of the night you're going to _want_ to dance," Ivan called over the music.

The bar had an Old West theme, complete with saloon girls. I occasionally caught sight of a male carrying a tray, but they were few and far between. They ducked in between the patrons and carried trays full of drinks. It seemed that their signature drink was a large stein of pale ale. I personally would need something stronger to get any dancing juices flowing.

All the saloon girls were dressed in the stereotypical saloon girl outfit, but it was all surprisingly classy. Nowadays the old-fashioned costumes would be modernized to show a little more skin and a lot more cleavage. These girls' costumes, however, protected their modesty, leaving something to the imagination, yet still allowing for a tantalizing tease. There wasn't a standardized uniform, either. Each girl had their own unique spin on the uniform.

Everyone had a smile on their face, patrons and working girls alike. I caught glimpses of the girls as they twirled past in a flurry of fabric and curled hair. Most wore nameplates. I noticed after a while that they all had names of states. I thought it odd, not really sure if it was an American thing or not.

"All the girls here are named after states," I called out to Ivan over the banjo-heavy music. I had to admit the beat made me want to move, and from the crowded dance floor, everyone else seemed to think the same thing.

"They don't want to give their real names, for safety reasons, so they've chosen to have pseudonyms in the form of state names." He said, leaning closer so I could hear what he was saying. I nodded in understanding and started moving toward the bar. I really needed to have some alcohol in my system before I could even start thinking about having fun.

"Damn! Did you see Mississippi?" Ivan called, his head following a platinum blonde as she kick-stepped her way through the crowd, one hand carrying drinks, the other hiking up her skirt and twirling it around. She wore a carefree smile, and her laugh sounded above the music and the chatter. I wasn't one for blondes, that was more Ivan's thing. I tended to prefer brunettes; I had to admit she was attractive, but not my type.

"Louisiana!" Ivan called, his eyes still on Mississippi. "I need my usual, make it double."

"You got it, Ivan!" The sweet blonde called from behind the bar. She was probably a foot and a half shorter than I was, sandy blonde hair, and a light gold lily tattooed across her cheek. She wore an easy grin, though her eyes darted alert around the room. If I had to guess, her job was to keep an eye on the patrons just to make sure the girls stayed safe.

"This is my best friend, Louisiana," Ivan said, turning to face the bar as Louisiana set down our drinks. I don't know who he was introducing as his best friend, me or Louisiana. I wouldn't put it past him to introduce Louisiana to me as his best friend, considering she provided him with alcohol. I picked my drink up and knocked it back. After setting it down I looked up at Louisiana, who now wore a smirk as she observed my behavior.

"Not much for dancing, are you?" She asked in amusement.

"Not at all. I'm Dimitri, by the way."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dimitri." She said with a genuine smile. "If you don't really know what to do, I suggest seeking out Tennessee."

"Oh, man. She's smokin'. Really knows how to move, that one." I looked over at Ivan with an eyebrow raised. "What? She does." Louisiana laughed at Ivan, who proceeded to look a little offended before giving her a wink.

"Back off, Zeklos. You know she's not available, not to you, anyway." She responded lightheartedly. I started to wonder how often Ivan came here to be this familiar and friendly with the bartender and even a few of the girls. The Old West was really my obsession, but I guess Ivan found enough women with the same fascination.

"You offend me, Lou." He said clutching at his heart. I had to chuckle at his behavior. Ivan really did know how to smooth-talk anyone; he just didn't know how to keep the ones he managed to date.

"Enjoy your night, Ivan. You know where to find me if you need a drink. It was nice meeting you, Dimitri. You really should find Tennessee. She shouldn't be that hard to find." Louisiana waved at us before moving to the other end of the bar where more patrons were waiting.

I turned around to face the dance floor, just to observe. The bar had a great energy, and I could see why Ivan would visit a place with this sort of vibe, but I couldn't figure out why he came _here._

"How often do you come here, Ive?" I asked, not taking my eyes off the mass of moving bodies. A caller had been brought out and partners were finding three other pairs to begin a square dance. I'll admit that I could square dance. My little sister and I had been instructed by my mother and my grandmother when we were younger. It was the same with swing dancing, both were very adamant that I would benefit from learning.

"Probably twice a week, maybe more." I looked over at him with a shocked expression. "What? It's not my fault that the ladies here dig a cowboy. I just don't have the added benefit of enjoying the country theme alongside them."

"Then why do you come here?"

"I can't resist a woman in a corset." He winked at me, and I rolled my eyes.

"No wonder you're still trying to find a girl willing to date you," I said with a smirk.

"Hey, now. Not every girl wants a gentleman such as yourself." Ivan retorted, waving Louisiana back over. "And if that is the case, why haven't you tied to knot already?"

"I'm not really the marrying kind, besides, I haven't found 'The One,'" I said with a shrug. "If I was ever to get married, it would have to be someone I love, and right now, I don't love anyone."

"You might be able to find 'The One' if you didn't keep to yourself all the time." He snorted.

"I'm here now, aren't I?" I asked in a huff, gesturing to myself.

"Only because I literally dragged your ass here!" Ivan exclaimed, handing me another shot. I glared at him before accepting it, tipping it back and setting it on the bar in one smooth motion.

The first square dance, since we'd been here at least, was just starting. I watched as the couples bowed and curtsied to their respective partners and then their corners. They circled to the left and then circled to the right. I stood fascinated as each command from the caller was executed seconds after his voice rang out.

"You thinking of joining in the next dance?" Ivan chuckled, uninterested in the effortless movements.

"Yeah," I said plainly. I felt him look over at me in shock, but I was too busy watching the dance to really care.

"Now that's the spirit!" Ivan said patting me on the back. "Can you even dance?"

"Mama and Babushka made sure of it," I told him, looking over at him with a raised eyebrow, daring him to question it.

"Now that makes sense." He said, knowing that if those two wanted something done, it got done. "Well, they do a square dance every half hour. Usually, they call for country swing dancing, too, but other than that, it's your typical club. Well, other than Tennessee. You don't find someone like her just anywhere."

"What's so special about Tennessee?" I asked scanning the crowd for someone I thought would stand out. The way that Louisiana and Ivan talked about her, you'd think she'd be the first person you saw when scanning a crowd.

"She's a saloon girl, but her job is to make people feel comfortable when they're dancing. If a patron wants to square dance but doesn't know how, they seek out Tennessee. She's got the sexiest body known to man and knows how to use it, but as far as I know, she's not dating anyone, not for lack of interest, though. I asked her out once, she laughed in my face for a solid five minutes before walking off without a word." I tried to hold back a laugh, and his expression turned to hurt. "It's not funny! I've never had someone laugh at me as rejection, most of the time I just get slapped."

"There's a first time for everything," I said. I heard a ragtime swing start up from the piano in the corner. I looked around the room, trying to find a lone woman in need of a partner.

That's when I saw her. She was the most alluring woman that I'd ever laid eyes on. I couldn't see her nameplate from across the room, but if I had to guess I would assume that she was Tennessee. I could see where Ivan got the assumption she was sexy, and she was, but she was more beautiful than words could do justice. I was aware that I was staring and the opportunity to dance was slipping away, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from her, and I couldn't seem to make my body move toward her.

She was dressed in a similar manner to the rest of the saloon girls, but hers was more suited for dancing. Her dress was a dark red but completely covered with black lace. She'd pinned one side of her skirt up around her waist, exposing the majority of her leg, yet kept modest coverage. Whereas most girls would wear pantyhose to smooth the look of their legs, Tennessee didn't, she didn't have to. Her feet were covered by short black riding boots with a very high heal. How she was able to move in them so gracefully, I'll never know.

Her hips swayed slightly to the music and her toe was tapping, but she didn't join in. She watched as the couples moved around the room, the more experienced ones even attempted to do lifts. There was a flash in her eyes, even from across the room I could see it, that signaled her love of dancing. I knew I could dance, even do some lifts, but I didn't want to have anyone in my arms other than her. I didn't know if she would dance with me, but I wanted her to.

The dance was coming to an end, and I watched as Tennessee moved around the edges of the dance floor. I was captivated by her as she was stopped by a man in an emerald green t-shirt. I saw the tips of black boots peeking out from his boot cut dark-wash jeans. His hand came up and tipped the brim of his hat at her. She daintily picked up the sides of her skirts and curtsied slightly. Her smile was small, not the large smile she was wearing earlier.

He offered her his hand, and I tensed as she lightly placed her small hand in it. He led her out onto the dance floor, placing the hand that wasn't already occupied on her waist and waited for the music to start again. I was confused when the majority of the couples stepped aside and gave plenty of space for the couple. They all turned to watch.

"Who's that?" I whispered to Ivan. As the pair waited for music, the noise in the bar had reduced to near silence.

"Everyone here calls him 'Mr. New York.'" Ivan responded, his voice containing a little disdain. "He and Tennessee are the best dancers in the place, and at least once a night they dance together. It truly is a sight to behold, you'll see."

"Are they together?" I asked, unsure as to my true motive in wanting to know the answer to the question.

"I have a feeling that he wants to be, I mean who wouldn't, but I've never seen anything from her to indicate that they're an item."

I felt infinitesimally better but soon tensed when another swing piece started up. The upbeat melody promised for fast movement and plenty of opportunities for spectacular lifts. Sure enough, as the prelude concluded, they took off. He led her in a foxtrot-like stance around the room, but their movements, while light and airy, held weight as each footfall made a loud stomp. As they rounded the room, the patrons joined their stomping, matching the upbeats with a clap.

He removed his hand from her waist, bringing his left arm up above their heads, moving her wrist in a way that caused her to twirl. I was mesmerized by the fabric that flew around her. A swirl of black and red blurred together as she spun faster, releasing New York's hand.

Suddenly they both jumped and landed with a louder thud than before. They straightened before bending to an overdramatized sashay. They moved left to right, front to back. Somehow, Tennessee's left hand ended up in New York's right hand out in front of them, while his left hand rested with her right on her left hip.

His eyes were fixed on her, the same was true for every male in the room, myself included. She was smiling, her eyes focused on the crowd before she suddenly looked my direction. Her dark brown eyes found mine as she continued to dance. I saw a fire dance in her eyes, one that was even more fascinating than the one her body was performing at the moment.

She maintained eye contact with me for the remainder of their dance, only breaking the connection when she had to twirl and when New York bowed deep, kissing the back of her hand. She curtsied politely before looking back over at me. I was frozen to my spot at the bar.

Her beautiful face adopted a devious smirk, and she winked at me.

I felt my body moving before my mind could control it. I was moving closer to her. I needed to be close to her. She was backing up, unaware of the crowd she was backing into but still managing not to run into anyone. Seeing her retreating form, my animalistic side urged me to chase her, to hunt her down and claim her body as my own.

While I didn't think of it as hunting, I did chase her. She'd placed herself in a quiet, dark corner. She was leaning against the wall, one of her heeled-boots resting on the wall behind her. Her skirt was draped artfully, exposing the skin on her left leg almost up to her hip. A lace garter mocked me as it sat high on her thigh, begging me to take it off, along with her other clothes.

"Howdy, Cowboy." Her voice broke me out of my lustful gaze. She didn't have the southern accent that I had expected her to have. She sounded like she was from up north, but where, I don't know.

"Howdy, Ma'am," I responded, tipping the brim of my hat to her. Her eyes lit up as my accented voice drifted to her.

"You're not from around these parts, are you?" I'd stepped in front of her, still at a respectable distance, her bent leg keeping us apart. She looked up at me through lush, dark eyelashes.

"I've recently moved here," I told her, trying to focus on her face and not on the rest of her body. "I'm originally from Russia."

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Comrade." She said, pushing herself off the wall and sticking out her hand. I grasped it, receiving her firm handshake. A pleasant warmth spread from where her skin connected with mine. "They call me Tennessee."

"Dimitri Belikov," I said, finding myself getting lost in the depths of her eyes. I was aware of an upbeat tune beginning. "Why do they call you Tennessee?"

"It started out as a horrible pickup line, and I kind of liked it when I started working here. The most desperate men still use it on me thinking they're cute, but I've gotten used to it."

"You'll have to excuse me, but I'm unfamiliar with American pickup lines, so I can't say I know what you're talking about." She laughed as I confessed my ignorance. Her wavy strands of hair fanned out as she shook her head. I couldn't help but smile at her reaction. Not because she laughed at me, but because she laughed; it was a beautiful sound.

"Would you care to dance, Tennessee?" I asked holding out my hand and twitching my head back to the crowd.

"I thought you'd never ask." Her smile made my heart stop in my chest. She dragged me to the dance floor by the hand. I followed her, allowing myself to study her body while she was walking in front of me.

The bustle of her dress made her ass look even bigger than, I'm sure, it would normally and gave the illusion of an even tinier waist. Her boots clicked softly on the hardwood floors in time with the sway of her hips. Her shoulders were pulled back confidently, her curled hair pinned neatly into a messy bun, some of the strands cascading down her back.

"Do you trust me?" I asked as we waited for the next dance. She looked up at me, studying my face while she made her decision.

"Yes." She whispered, her smile wider than when she danced with Mr. New York. I smiled back and watched as her eyes followed the movement.

It had been a long time since I'd danced, but standing with this beauty made everything else fall away, my muscle memory taking over. I led her around the room, much like New York did, but the difference lay in her eyes. When she danced with New York, her eyes were on the crowds. With me, she locked her eyes on mine and allowed me to lead her, trusting that I knew what I was doing.

Our frame was strong, our bodies molded together, and we moved as one. I raised her hand I held in my hand above her head and released her waist. She twirled three times before I pulled her in, her back to my front. I braced my hands on her hips and lifted her without warning. She didn't seem to mind, in fact, she seemed prepared for the lift. Her head tilted back and rested on my shoulder as I spun us.

One of her legs was extended, trailing after us as we spun, and the other was bent underneath her. When I started lowering her, her legs became straight again. I stopped abruptly, setting her down and watched her twirl away from me. She stopped twirling suddenly and faced me, pointing down to the ground. I instantly fell to one knee. She picked up her skirts and started a kick-step around me. I followed her with my eyes as much as I could. The leg that had the garter appeared over my right shoulder and I grasped her calf. I placed my other hand under her foot as I felt her push up on the leg I grasped. I stood, still holding her leg as she worked to keep it straight.

Her right leg was bent when I looked up at her. She looked down at me with the fire burning brightly in her eyes. I tossed her into the air, watching her spin to the side, making it easier for me to catch her. I positioned one arm to catch her legs and the other to cradle the back of her neck as I followed her body almost completely to the ground. Her ass landed on my bent knee, one of her legs kicked out straight as I dipped her back and the music ended.

Her eyes had locked with mine as soon as she landed in my arms. The crowd erupted in applause, but all I could focus on was Tennessee.

"Do all Russians dance like that?" She asked in a breathless whisper. I pulled her up to a standing position and led her off the dance floor, back to the corner I'd found her in.

"No. I was taught by my mother and grandmother at a young age. I hadn't danced in almost eight years until tonight." I said, moving a strand of hair that had fallen in her face behind her ear.

"You hadn't danced in eight years, and you asked me to trust you?" She asked bewildered. "What would have happened if you had dropped me!?"

"I didn't, though, did I?" I asked with a smirk. Her bewildered expression turned amused as she smiled wide.

"I'll admit, you're the best partner I've had in a while." She said.

"What about Mr. New York?" I asked with a little disdain in my voice.

"Adrian?" She laughed. "He's a good dancer, but we've practiced the same three dances for months. We never stray from the routine. Dancing with you was so natural. I didn't know what you were going to do, yet, somehow, I knew exactly what you were going to do. Does that make sense?"

"Yes. I felt the same way." I said with a wide smile. I knew I felt something special, but I didn't think she'd felt it, too. "Is there any way I can know your name?"

"That depends. Will you dance with me again?" She asked while tugging me back to the crowded dance floor. The song wasn't conducive to swing or square dancing, so I didn't know what to do. She seemed to sense my hesitation. "I'll help you, don't worry. Do you trust me?"

I only nodded and followed her into the crowd. She remained facing away from me, placing my hands on her hips. She started to sway back and forth, encouraging me to do the same. She reached up and tangled her fingers in my hair, quickly discovering that my hat would become a problem. She took the hat off my head and placed it on hers. I must say, she looked much better with the hat than I did.

Her hips rubbed against mine and all thoughts left my head. It proved to be a good thing. I stopped thinking and started focusing on her body and what it was doing. I started dancing in ways I didn't know I could. She was doing the majority of it, but I still felt like I was contributing something.

I don't know how long we dance or how many dances we did. I know there was her and there was me. Her eyes were focused on me the entire time. She suddenly looked up as someone called her name, but I didn't focus enough to hear what it was.

I looked over to see a tanned man in an expensive looking suit with a bright pocket square and matching scarf. He looked extremely out of place in this saloon bar. The man lifted his wrist and tapped his watch. Tennessee nodded and stepped away from me.

"I've got to go, but know this was one of the best nights of my life. Maybe I'll see you around." She said with a seductive smile and turned to walk away.

"Wait. Don't go, I didn't catch your name." I said.

"Don't worry, I didn't say." She threw a smirk over her shoulder then turned and danced out of my life. I tried to follow her, but she wove through the crowd with such ease that I couldn't keep up with her, and I lost her dark brown hair in the mass of people.

I didn't know if I'd ever see her again. I'd definitely be coming back to this bar more often. I'd just met her tonight, but I knew my heart belonged to her.

My sweet girl named Tennessee.


End file.
